that's ridiculous
by Mixora
Summary: A series of ridiculous prepositions. Abandoned. RWHG.
1. Chapter 1

**that's ridiculous**

**summary: rhr me? and- no, no, that's ridiculous.**

**disclaimer: i donoteth own this. i mean, i wrote it, but i don't own hermione, ron, harry...etc...**

_Year One, Hermione, during the Christmas Holidays_

Hermione sighed. It wasn't just any sigh either, because Hermione wasn't just any girl. This was a very all-encompassing sigh. It was a sigh that said, we're out for the holidays, and a sigh that said, I have a lot to explain to my parents. It was a sigh that communicated without words that she would miss her new friends Harry and Ron, and that yes, she was one of the few students who would miss their schoolwork. However, it was also a Christmas-is-in-the-air sigh, so she couldn't stay sad because it was _Christmas_, and that just wasn't done.

She was sitting alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, because Harry and Ron were staying for the holidays and nobody else would sit with the girl who was commonly known as the bushy-haired, big-teethed, chatterbox know-it-all. And the book she had brought was not terribly interesting, since she hadn't been able to take anything from the Hogwarts library back home, so she was sitting here sighing. She would in fact be sighing even more if she had known that her narrator had just improperly started a sentence with "and", but thankfully she didn't know this and I am spared a grammar lesson.

The train finally came to a stop, and Hermione was embraced by both of her parents, who flashed stunningly white smiles at their only daughter, who they loved very, very much, although they didn't understand a thing about magic. Hermione supposed she would have to explain more to her parents now that she understood it properly herself.

They stopped at a small restaurant in London before heading home, and it was on the ride back (in a car, imagine that! Hermione had almost forgotten about such average, Muggle things!) that the subject about her school was breached.

"So," her father said finally, glancing at Hermione with the rear-view mirror, "did you learn much about this...magic? Explain it to your old fuddy-duddy parents, sweetums." He smiled again, and Hermione wished she had straight, average sized teeth like her father.

"Oh yes," she said excitedly, smiling back and then making a face about her teeth. Of course, next to Neville they looked practically normal, but Neville _was_ really nice. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him, though, having spent most of her time with Ron and Harry. "Lots, it's really fascinating...but there's so much to learn!"

"What subjects are you taking?" asked her mother, sounding slightly anxious. Her mother understood even less about magic than her father, and was still under the impression that magic involved a lot of wand-swishing and "abracadabra" and rabbits in hats.

"Well, I'll be taking more once we can choose more electives," Hermione replied, "but that won't be until the end of second year. But I'm taking History of Magic, it's rather boring actually, unless you listen carefully...because of the professor you see...but he's a ghost! A real ghost! There are loads of them there, like Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost, but he's the only one who teaches..." Hermione realized that she was probably making no sense at all to her parents and quickly explained the rest of her parents before launching into the house system.

"There are four houses," she told her parents, who both looked very confused. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Gryffindor is the brave house, and I got in that one! It's supposed to be the best house, you know. Dumbledore himself went to it! And then there's Ravenclaw, they prize the really brilliant ones; I was a bit disappointed I didn't make Ravenclaw, but the hat-that's how they Sort you, you see, you try on this hat that talks and it tells you where you should be-anyway, it had a hard time deciding on me. Then there's Hufflepuff, and they're supposed to be the really hard workers, and then Slytherin. Really Dark, bad wizards and witches usually end up there, but the hat just says you need ambition."

She somehow doubted her parents were taking any of this in, but kept on. After about an hour of talking about her subjects and the school, her mother said tentatively, "Have you made any friends, Hermione?" Hermione had a feeling that her mom was worried about this because she had never had many friends back home; also this was something her mother understood, friends.

"Yes," she answered. "Some."

"What are their names?" her mum asked, smiling back at Hermione, clearly relieved.

"Well, there's Harry, and Ron, I've spent most of my time with them - and Neville's rather nice, but we haven't spoken much. I get along well with Percy too, he's one of Ron's older brothers." Hermione realized that everybody on her very short list was a guy, but she couldn't help that boys, no matter how thick, were easier to make friends with, especially if you just weren't interested in makeup or crushes.

Her parents exchanged looks. "Don't you have any girlfriends?" her mother inquired, turning around in her seat.

"Not really," Hermione answered truthfully. "There's Parvati and Lavender, they're in my dormitory, but I'm not really interested in the things they talk about."  
"What do they talk about?" her mother persisted as her father made a turn.

"Well, you know...girl stuff like makeup...and crushes...and hair styles and fashion and such. But I'm interested in books and schoolwork..."

"And are the boys?" asked her father.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted with a grin. "But...I don't know. They're easier to talk to. Oh gosh, I've already had a really good adventure! A troll - can you believe that, a real troll? - got into the school somehow...and ended up in the girls bathroom, where I was!"

"Why were you in the bathroom?"

She hesitated. She didn't want to admit that it was because she was crying. No matter how much of a prat he was, she didn't want her parents to get a bad first impression of Ron. "Well, you know, my hair wasn't behaving..." she trailed off, not sure if they'd accept that. "But anyway, Harry and Ron showed up - they'd accidentally locked the troll in with me, you see, they hadn't known I was in here - and we knocked it out! Well, they did most of it...Harry stuck his wand up the troll's nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club! That was how we became friends...it was on Halloween, too."

"But, you weren't in any serious danger, were you?" her mother asked hesitantly. Hermione bit her lip.

"Well, sort of...I mean, if Harry and Ron hadn't shown up, I'd probably be dead. But...they did...so there's nothing to worry about, Mum."

Her parents exchanged looks again, for a long time. "Professor McGonagall assured us that you would be taken care of very well," her father said sternly. "Perhaps this school is not the best place for you to be. I can't have my little girl getting hurt."  
Hermione was horrified. "Oh no, Daddy! I couldn't leave, not now that I know I'm magic! I can't do it at home, or I could show you, but I can levitate some things now, and lots of other stuff...turn matches into needles...I couldn't leave!"

Again with the exchanging looks. "And besides, I'd miss my friends...and Harry and Ron would probably fail without me there, anyway," she added as an afterthought. "Honestly, I don't know how they weren't expelled before we became friends! Especially Ron!"

"Why don't you tell us more about your friends," suggested her mother, giving her father a We'll-Talk-About-This-Later sort of look. Hermione was rather experienced with her parents looks, although she doubted they knew that.

"Well, Harry, he was raised with Muggles like me, except they weren't his parents, he's an orphan you see - and he's really famous too, everybody knows him. But he didn't know he was famous until he came to Hogwarts, imagine that! He's a first year like me, and so is Ron, more about him later. See, Harry's famous because, well, you remember me telling you about that really Dark wizard?"

"Vo...vo..." her father tried, "...something like that."

Hermione smiled. "Voldemort, but everybody calls him You-Know-Who...except for Harry, I'm not sure why. And Dumbledore, I suppose. Anyway, You-Know-Who killed Harry's parents when he was just one year old, but he couldn't kill Harry! And then he lost all of his powers! So he's really, really famous. He's got this scar on his forehead, from when You-Know-Who tried to kill him, but he can't remember it, except a load of green light."

"Poor boy," her mother said sadly.

She nodded. "I feel really bad for him...the Muggles he lives with are horrid."

"And what about this other boy? Rob?" her father asked.

"Ron," Hermione corrected. "Ron's...well...different. His whole family's magic, so he already knows lots, but he doesn't really study that much...he was a bit mean at first," she said, using a very strong understatement.

"Ah," her mother said with a grin. "I bet he likes you."

Hermione felt her face flush. "Now you sound like Parvati and Lavender!" she said, trying to laugh it off, and not dwell on that rather odd thought. "That's ridiculous, we're just friends."

"Sure," her mother said knowingly, and Hermione hurriedly changed the subject.

_Year One, Ron, During the Summer Holidays_

Ron couldn't seem to believe it...school was over. For the year. And so many things had happened...in fact, he wondered if just maybe he could catch his brothers. After all, Harry Potter was now his best friend. He'd rescued a girl from a full-grown mountain troll. He'd beat McGonagall's chess set and helped Harry save the Stone, even if he didn't _entirely_ understand everything that had happened.

His mother swept him into a hug as he waved goodbye to Harry and Hermione. He realized with a slight shock that he would miss both of them, even though Hermione _was_ an insufferable know-it-all. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

"So how was your year, dear?" his mum asked after she had embraced the rest of her recently-returned sons. She made a tutting noise that reminded Ron again of Hermione. "You barely said anything in your letters!"  
"It was bloody brilliant!" he declared, mentally hearing Hermione telling him off for swearing. He hoped this annoying habit of seeing her scolding him would not stay for the rest of the summer, or he would probably go mad. "We fought a mountain troll and we even _saved the Philosopher's Stone._" This made him feel special. His brothers had never saved the school, had they?

His mum's face lit up. "Yes, I heard about that, you'll have to tell me all about that, and your new friends! Oh, we'll have to invite that sweet boy Harry over for the summer..." As she went on and on about how sad it was about Harry and such, Fred and George exchanged devious looks. Ron gulped. That was never a good sign.

"And Hermione too, of course," suggested Fred innocently.

"Oh yes, and Hermione." Then she paused. "Hermione? Who's Hermione? Another of your friends, dear? I don't remember you mentioning her."

"Ron's _girlfriend_," chimed in George, nudging Fred. They both snickered.

"That's ridiculous," said Ron, annoyed. "She's just my friend. Who'd want to snog such a know-it-all?" He felt rather bad for saying that, picturing her face, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. It wasn't his fault his brothers teased him mercilessly.

His mum began to give him a lecture on girls while the twins grinned at each other again. "Ron's right," Fred said in a manner that reminded him of Percy. "She's so full of it, prancing around like she owns the place, top of every class..."  
"She's top because she works for it!" Ron shot back angrily before realizing this was what they wanted. He felt his whole face burn a bright red.

"Bit too defensive, isn't he, George?" Fred said.

"Just a bit." agreed his twin.

"She's pretty," piped up Ginny. "But I think she sounds too good for Ron."

Ron buried his red face in his hands while the whole family began to discuss Hermione. He decided it would be very, very good if he could learn a spell to sink into the floor, or maybe figure out how to Apparate. He'd have to ask Hermione after the holidays.


	2. Chapter 2

**that's ridiculous**

**disclaimer: no, i did not magically turn into jk rowling in-between the chapters. pity, that.**

_Year Two, Hermione, Sometime Before She Was Petrified_

Ginny giggled and leaned back again. The two of them were in Hermione's dormitory, since Parvati and Lavender were off doing who-knew-what, most likely following one of their latest crushes; Ginny had taken that opportunity to talk to Hermione. The two girls got along quite well.

"So," Ginny said after she had finished giggling. "You know about me and Harry-"  
"Everybody does, Ginny," Hermione put in, laughing.

"Well, yes, but you know all the details. But the question is...do _you_ fancy anyone?"

Hermione stopped laughing abruptly. The thing was, there had been these creeping feelings...but of course she couldn't tell Ginny, not until she was sure. She cleared her throat, quite aware that her face was bright red. "Of course not, Ginny, that's ridiculo-" But something seemed to catch her tongue and she changed direction midsentence. "Actually I think I fancy Ron." Horrified, she looked down at her feet. Maybe she had said it so fast Ginny couldn't hear it! Maybe she could pass it off as a joke!

"RON!?" Ginny exploded into laughter, so much she fell off the bed. Hermione glared, her face burning, but didn't say anything, not wanting to incriminate herself further.

Ginny finally regained control and clambered back onto the bed, a stunned expression on her face. "You really fancy my-my brother," she gasped, still giggling. "And here I thought-you were-sm-mart!" She giggled even harder and couldn't talk any more.

Hermione bit her lip. She supposed she could see what was funny, but the uncontrollable laughter thing was a bit much. "What's wrong with him?" she snapped, then realized she was digging herself deeper. She had only recently discovered the fact herself, and was hoping it was just the hormones acting up. After all, she was almost thirteen.

"Well, as long as you don't mind dim-witted prats, nothing."

"I figured out that bit for myself, thanks." Hermione realized she was sounding rather angry, but..."Anyway...I'm not _sure_ if I fancy him. I think it might just be hormones you know since I see him every day and he's my best friend and all well besides Harry and I couldn't like Harry...because...well...I just couldn't and so I'm sure it'll go away eventually." She let out her remaining breath.

"Well, there's only one way to be sure," Ginny said cheerfully. "What's his best feature? Mind you, _I_ can't think of any right off the bat..."

Hermione thought for a second. "Well, he's really loyal," she began hesitantly. "And he's brave...and funny...and he has a brilliant smile...and he's shy...and I like the way he blushes. And he's always there for me-"  
Ginny held up a hand. "Let the professional handle this," she said with a smile. "My diagnosis is..." (she cleared her throat) "Hermione's got it bad."

She blushed even harder. "So...you don't think it's...just hormones?" she asked in a small voice. It wasn't like she wanted to go out with Ron or anything, was it? She thought about it for a minute. A voice in her head spoke up.

_Actually, that would be quite nice._

Ginny shook her head. "Definitely not."

Hermione growled and buried her head in the pillow. She was doomed.

_Year Two, Ron, While Hermione Was Petrified_

"What are you doing?"

The sharp voice cut into Ron's mind. Scowling, he turned around, and Harry did the same. They knew exactly who it was. "Visiting your girlfriend?" sneered Malfoy, smirking. "Don't think much of her taste, whichever one it is. Which is it? Who's going out with the _Mudblood_? Is it you, Scarhead? Or is it the Weasel?"  
Ron had never wanted to murder Malfoy more, except that time that he called Hermione "Mudblood" to her face. He drew out his wand, but thankfully was stopped from eating slugs again (though he'd do it, for Hermione...and Harry of course. And himself) by none other than Percy. "No fighting in the hallways!" he called out in his most pompous, Prefect voice. "Malfoy - use of slurs such as Mudblood is prohibited, if I hear you say that again I might just have to dock points...or you might even land in detention," he said smugly. "Ron - I would hope you would know better than to fight. If I catch either of you at it again, it's detention for both of you!"

"But he called her a-" Ron protested.

"Don't let it bother you. And whatever you do, _don't fight him._ I don't want to see you following in the twins' footsteps...there are many other, better role models for you to base your time at Hogwarts and in fact your career on." It was clear from the way that Percy was smiling that he meant himself. Ron rolled his eyes in disgust and walked off.

Later that night, Harry brought up an interesting question. "Er...Ron..." he said tentatively, struggling into his nightclothes. They were the only two in their dormitories; the others were still in the common room. "You don't think that either of us would ever, well, you know..." he trailed off, obviously hoping Ron would pick up on whatever he was trying to say.

But he apparently didn't figure in that this was _Ron_, who wasn't terribly good at hints. Not like what Harry was going to say was obvious. "What?"

"Er...end up with...Hermione," Harry managed, avoiding Ron's eyes.

Ron stared at him blankly for a moment. "Well...uh...I dunno...maybe, I guess...why?"

"Just what Malfoy said earlier." They went another minute or two in silence before Harry spoke again, sounding if possible even more nervous. "Ron...er...be honest...I mean, we're best mates and all...do you...er...fancy...Hermione?"

"Hermione? That's ridiculous, Harry. Honestly! Me! And Hermione!" But his ears were bright red. Then again...no...it was ridiculous. Not him and Hermione. They were _just friends_.

**a/n: hinthintreviewhintreview What? coughreviewcough No, I didn't say anything. **


	3. Chapter 3

**that's ridiculous!**

* * *

a/n: i found the third chapter lying around! how exciting. this will never be finished.

* * *

_Year Three, Hermione, Directly After the Fight With Ron_

"Hmm, let's see, we have Ronnikins, storming out with his little face all red..." Fred began, looking thoughtful.

"...and we have Her Majesty, sitting on the couch and glaring at us..." George continued, smirking.

"So the only reasonable explanation is..." Fred announced, now grinning at Hermione.

"Ron and Hermione had a lover's spat!" George nearly shouted, looking quite pleased with himself.

Honestly! They were in fifth year, and they were still more immature than your average pair of five-year-olds. Besides, it was none of their business whether she'd had a fight with Ron or not; and after what that _prat_ had done, she was pretty sure she'd never like him any more, and it was just hormones, because an intelligent witch like her could never _fancy_ such a dim-witted git.

No matter how cute he might be, no matter how good-looking his red hair is, and no matter about how absolutely perfect his lopsided smile is.

She decided to stay in dignified silence. Which worked with Ron, usually, but apparently not with his brothers.

"Awww, 'Mione's _blushing!_" cooed Fred with a michievous glimmer in his eyes. "She must be thinking about her _boyfriend..._"

"Ickle Ronnikins!" chimed in George. "Personally, I don't understand what you see in him, Hermione..."

"Ron and I are not _together_," Hermione spat, glaring at them. "And we never will be, he's such a prat!" A little too late, she realized this sounded like she _wanted_ to be Ron's girlfriend, and she groaned to herself.

"We understand," said Fred seriously in an understanding tone. "He'll just never get the point that you're absolutely, totally, madly in love with him and all you want to do is take him up to the Astronomy Tower and snog the h-"  
Hermione was livid. "Leave me alone!" she hissed, standing up and stomping off towards the girl's dormitory.

"Hermy! Wait up!" called George. "You have to confess your undying love to Ronnikins!"

She turned around. Ron was standing in the portrait hole, face red, looking confused but no longer mad. Still, the sight of him, after what's he'd accused poor innocent Crookshanks of..."That's ridiculous! I never want to see your face again, Ronald Bilius Weasley!", and with that finality, she vanished up the staircase to the girl's dormitory.

* * *

_Year Three, Ron, When Hermione Hugs Him_

Bloody hell.

All I said was that I'd help and now Hermione's arms are around me and she's sobbing like some sort of scarlet-woman-slash-lunatic, just crying into my shirt like there's no tomorrow. I look at Harry...a little help?...but he's apparently looking elsewhere, acting like he's witnessing some sort of intimate moment.

Not sure about what I'm supposed to do, I just kind of pat her hair, half of me praying that she'll stop crying while the other half is quite enjoying having her arms around my neck and her face buried into my chest...this half of me seems to get louder every day, it's about as mental as she is. It's always telling me that I _like_ Hermione or something, and that she looks _quite pretty_, which is really weird, because, let's face it, it's Hermione. Not that she's not pretty, it's just, I don't know, feels all awkward to think of her like that.

A thought occurred to me that I suppose I should have thought of before: does she think of _me _like that?  
What if she doesn't and I tell her or something, not that there's much to tell, and she thinks I'm some sort of freak and avoids me like after the fight about Crookshanks, who's still a bloody mental cat, no matter what she says; or worse, what if she does think of me like that?

Does this mean she likes me? Not like, but _likes_ me? Me, Ron Weasley? And Hermione? _Ridiculous._

God, I think my voice needs some support or something, because it doesn't sound that sure any more. Actually it sounds very positive that that could happen. That _we _could happen. That we'll end up snogging everywhere and spouting French at each other and whispering sweet nothings in the other's ears. Which isn't actually a bad thought, really. Actually it would be rather-

Just when I got used to her having her arms around me, she lets go. Figures. Bloody women. But she smiles, which makes up for it, a bit. And I can feel my ears turning red. Bloody Weasley curse. And now I'm nervous, because every other bloody word I think has bloody in front of it.

I think I've finally gone insane.


End file.
